


under the skin

by kakashihatake123



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Finger Sucking, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 22:29:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7592695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kakashihatake123/pseuds/kakashihatake123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is natural for them to seek comfort in each other's arms, for two Starks are stronger than one. And as he whispers to her each night, when she awakens with fear clawing through her and his face fresh in her mind, the lone wolf may die, but the pack survives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	under the skin

He knows her knock when he heard it upon the thick mahogany door, the pound of her small fist light as it sounded through the chamber. Jon calls that she should enter and when she slips around the door he is already setting down his quill in its inkwell. It’s been three days since they’ve taken their leave and been allowed to retire together. It is almost a dance they have, slipping silently through the corridors, ducking behind columns or beside suits of armour that marked the halls to avoid the gaze of servants as they pass. It is almost like they are children again, swiping sweets from the kitchens and hoarding them under their beds or hiding from Old Nan to avoid their lessons.

Sansa looked at him, her Tully blue eyes bright, her pouted lips parted in words she does not utter, and though she does not speak it he knows she missed him too. Her feet are bare, padding across the room in silence until she stands before his chair, the hem of her gown in a ball as she clutches it above her ankles. It’s almost a challenge, her willowy frame standing before his chair, eyes slightly squinted as she looks down upon him, and though there is nothing inherently sexual about the way she is standing he can see from the look in her eyes that she can feel it too. 

Jon made to stand but as he adjusted to rise he felt her body shift until Sansa sinks to her knees before him. Her arms were thick as a cord as they closed around his middle, her head turning to lie upon his lap. At once his fingers curl through her hair, eyeing the crimson strands as they fell through his fingers. He wonders if she could feel his cock against her, not quite hard but certainly stirring, a traitor to the cool exterior he tried to emit.

“I missed you.” Sansa said finally. Her words were a whisper, wrapped in a fog of embarrassment and hesitancy. She does not turn her head to face him and he was glad, attempting to push away the blush that rose in his cheeks before she lifted her eyes to his.

Jon dropped his hand to run his knuckles across her cheek. It was a motion he had done only once before, when he had been comforting her from the nightmares that deluded her each time the sun set. It was one of the first times she had sought comfort in his arms and in his bed. Jon had turned to lay on his side, her body following his motions so that her back curled against his chest, her arm laid over the one he crossed her belly.

At first he had been unwilling to touch her, to prove he could be trusted, to prove that he would never harm her. From then each night she had visited him, her body folded flat against his, her hair wet from bathing and curled slightly at the ends so that it tickled his face not unpleasantly.

It had taken nearly a fortnight for him to tell her that the ghosts of terrors past visited him too, that nightmares made him awaken with cold sweat beading at his brow or the twisting pain of fear and nausea like a knife in his belly.

Sansa had seemed relieved to hear him utter these words, as though she had just realized that she was no longer alone in this world. Her hand had lifted to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing the corner of his mouth. She had said nothing, done nothing else, but the touch had been so feather light that he had felt his eyes flutter closed at the intimacy of the touch.

As the nights blurred into days and the days to nights Sansa became accustomed to the sound of his breathing, had taken comfort in the way his heart thumped against her shoulders as she slept, even the way he snored when he turned to lie upon his back. In his chamber the window was latched shut and the door bolted. Longclaw was set beside the feather bed, close enough that if Sansa reached out a hand she could graze its worn handle with her fingertips. She felt safe enough that the nightmares of looming faces and eerie voices did not plague her and she was able to sleep. Yet she did not.

In the darkness she studied him, her eyes traced the lines she wished her fingers could touch. She followed the slope of his nose, the curve of the uneven scar that ran down his cheek, to the swell of his neck and the thatch of dark hair that curled beneath the open collar of his tunic. Each time he had stirred she squeezed closed her eyes, afraid that he would see her watching him, having pushed herself up on her elbows so she had a better view. Jon had never told her that he knew of her nighttime actions. He often lay awake- despite the fact that his eyes were pressed shut- until he was sure that she had fallen asleep so he could do the same.

“I missed you too.” Jon returned. The shoulder of her gown had been pulled down by the metal clasp of his belt and sat at an awkward angle, revealing the slope of her shoulder that had once lain beneath. Her skin was pale as cream and dotted with freckles light enough that at first he had not seen them and as his eyes lingered he could feel his arousal rise sharply. He felt like a green boy, made hard by a woman’s bare shoulder, and he tore his eyes from her.

Sansa reached for the hand that stroked her cheek, her fingers closing around his so that she could bring his hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to the scars that nestled against his palm. A thrill ran through him at the sight of her, kneeling before him, her lips parted in the kiss she placed upon his palm, her bare shoulder shining silver in the moonlight that slanted in through the open window.

Jon wondered if he was drunk from the twin cups of hot mulled wine he had drank with his supper. He wondered if he was sleep deprived. He wondered if the adrenaline from the meeting with the Queen he had taken earlier in the day still filled him. Whatever the reason Jon found himself filled with the growing feeling of pleasure and nervousness and in a movement of blind boldness he lifted his fingers to her mouth.

Sansa’s lips parted, her mouth hot and wet as his brazen fingers slipped into it. Part of her looked surprised, her blue eyes flashing, but she did not balk nor turn away from him. She did not even break the line her eyes made as they met his.

He could feel heat rush through his body to pool at his cock and he shifted in his seat, suddenly very aware of the fact that she was sitting between his legs. She rocked backwards to sit upon her heels, Jon able to feel the way her cheeks puckered as she took a long breath through her nose, her tongue dragging down the length of his fingers to swirl across his fingertips.

Pulling back her head Sansa wiped her mouth and meets his eyes and for a moment Jon feared he had gone too far, had pushed her into something she did not wish, for she is on her feet. He opened his mouth to speak, his lips trying to form the words of the apology he has already begun to think up, but she interrupts him with four words that rush through his body and right to his cock. “Take me to bed.” Jon could do nothing but obey, trying very hard to rise to his feet without giving away his excitement. Sansa stood before him, tall and willowy and full of the curves she had grown into over her years in the Capital, and it is all he could do not to lay her back on the bed and fuck her until they were both screaming. But he knew how he had imagined this, knew of all the places he had thought to kiss her, all the ways he had thought to give her pleasure, and pushed the thought from his mind at once.

Her body is slight in his arms as he carried her across the room. His hands were warm as flame against her skin, able to be felt even through the many layers of her Northern gown that stood between his callused palms and her bare back. He bent to lay her down upon the furs that covered the feather bed, her eyes watching as he pulled his tunic over his head and let it fall to the floor at his feet. The chamber was cold from the snow that fell just outside the window but the fire that crackled in its grate and the gaze his woman set upon him did much to warm his bones.

Jon reached for the buttons of his breeches and felt them give, the shifting of the fabric delicious torment against his hardened cock, and he nearly trembled with the anticipation of kissing her, of touching her, of whispering how he had loved her when they were children and he loved her still.

Sansa turned her back to him and pushed her crimson hair over her shoulder. It was a silent invitation for help, Jon kneeling at her back and undid the pearl pins that lined her back of her gown, watching as she lifted her arms and pulled the gown over her head. Her fingers were at her bodice, undoing the cream coloured laces from their clasps until he could see the fabric loosen from her breast and part down the middle, falling away to leave nothing but a few layers of cloth between them.

A smile is quirking her lips as she lifted a leg and looped it over his shoulder, pulling back the hem of her under gown so that Jon could see the stockings that covered her legs. His mouth watered, her creamy thigh bare and barer still as he undid the small clasp and pushed down the fabric to reveal more of her thin leg. He pressed a kiss to the underside of her knee and felt her shiver, his mouth dragging down her calf to her ankle and down to the side of her foot. Jon turned his attention to her other leg, pulling away the stocking so that her toes could curl against his chest.

It was an agonizingly slow movement she made as she crossed her arms over her chest and pulled the hem of her gown until it came over her head, leaving her naked as on her nameday. Jon could have felt the world come to an end around him and he still would have been enthralled by her beauty, his eyes dragging down the length of her body from toe to head and everything in between.

They were kneeling before each other, fools in love and lust. Jon was sure he had never felt something so sweet as her nude body flush against his, her fingers curling through his dark hair and brushing it from his eyes as she planted her mouth upon his. Her lips fluttered, sweet and soft as he had imagined, tasting of honey and spices and stained slightly dark from the wine she had drunk. He was a fool, not to have kissed her so long ago. He was a fool to distract himself with thoughts of past regret instead of kissing her now.

Jon was breathless, feeling her teeth nip at his bottom lip, dragging slightly until he let out a moan. She was teasing him, he realized. It gave him a start and made him smile at the notion that she had anticipated this moment as much as he.

Lowering his mouth from her rosy mouth he pressed a kiss to her collarbone and smiled as he felt her body shiver in response. His mouth continued to leave a trail of hot kisses until his face lay in the space between her breasts, his lips parting as he took her nipple into his mouth. Her hand closed into a fist in his hair and her head was thrown back in pleasure at the feel of his hot breath upon her but before long he switched to her other breast, feeling it slight and plump beneath his hand.

Jon circled his tongue around her belly button, feeling her stomach tremble slightly beneath his mouth, and he continued lower. Sansa let out a gasp when his mouth found the thatch of red curls at the meeting of her thighs. He pulled away, unsure. She looked surprised, having never felt that kind of pleasure before. “I…” she said. “I’ve never been kissed there before.”

His mouth quirked into a sidelong smile and for a moment Jon relished in the feeling of being the one who made the other’s mouth go dry, an attribute Sansa had previously mastered, before his head dipped lower and her body once more curled against his in bed, but it was suddenly very different.

Sansa’s leg hung over his shoulder like a pelt, his head bobbing between her thighs in such a way as to make her flush bright red, the sort of blush that trailed all the way down her neck and down her chest. Jon’s mouth was warm and sure, pressing a series of kisses to her that were quite different from those he had placed upon her mouth. She was surprised to find that it did not feel strange. Not even the slightest bit uncomfortable. It only felt proper; as though it was something they should have occupied their nights with for months.

Jon could feel her go taut as a drawn bowstring beneath his mouth, her hands turned to fists in the furs she lay upon, before she unspooled like a roll of gathered yarn in his arms. The sound of her moans were enough to send him over the edge even without a single touch, the way her head was thrown back and her mouth hung open more obscene than the fact that he had just knelt between her parted thighs.

“Jon.” she breathed. Her chest heaved, her nipples peaked in the cold air and wet from where his lips had drawn against them. In another life she might have been hesitant to kiss him, to taste herself upon his lips, but she could not resist him. His eyes were dark and hooded, glistening with arousal and seduction as he looked down upon her, heating her body with his gaze as it traveled down the length of her. Her cheeks burned, tasting she was as sweet as he had whispered that she was when his fingers has been at her, parting her folds so that he could plant a kiss upon her soft skin.

“Sansa.” He replied. At first he had been teasing, the lilt of his voice light and pleasant. But as he met her eyes, finding them shining with lust until they were bright as sea sapphires, he could only whisper the words that had been swirling his mind for so long. “I want you.” He said, naming his desire without the fear that had troubled him once.

Sansa replied without missing a beat, shifting in the bed so that her arms were about him, the bodies turning so that his weight was flat upon her. “Have me then.” She whispered, her teeth biting at the lobe of his ear, warm and wet and tugging slightly so that he let out a groan. Her hips rolled forward, their bodies pressed so close together that he could feel every breath that coursed through her, the way her hips pressed to his making him shiver.

Wanton and willing and leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down the base of his neck Jon pushed into her. The feel of her body against his made a flash of white flood his vision, Sansa letting out a gasp as her hips rose so that her back lifted off the bed, arching against his body in a movement of delicious torment. He was slow and deliberate in his movements, biting his bottom lip in an attempt to focus, the way her body rose to meet his making him almost lightheaded.

She smelled of rosewater and lavender, the thin sheen of sweat that glittered against her skin mingling with his as they moved together. Her kisses were sweet and hot, the way her hips rose to meet his making him moan long and low, more of a growl than anything. The sound seemed to pierce right through her.

He knew he could not last much longer, knew that the way her arms pressed him tight against her and her thin leg had risen to drape over his hip would do little to sate his pleasure. The furs were soft against the bare skin of her back. His body was all muscle and hard plains as it moved against her, his callused palm curved against the bone of her hip so that he could guide her movements. Sansa’s heart fluttered against the cage of her ribs like a bird struggling to free itself, hammering against her chest so harshly that Jon could feel it against him, and he could almost smile to know that he was the root of her excitement.

Warmth built throughout her to pool in her belly and the arm Jon used to hold himself up was trembling. He could feel the redolent heat of his release approaching. Jon had been surprised to find he had lasted so long with his woman laid across his furs, panting and breathless and lying unashamedly naked beneath his body.

Sansa let out a sharp gasp and Jon knew that she too was nearing her release and he lowered his hand, dragging the pads of his fingers across the base of her, feeling the bud of skin that he had once touched with his tongue. She let out a gasp that was loud enough to be heard halfway through the castle and her hips rose once more off the flat of the bed, grating against his own, and he would have been inhuman to last even another breath.

Pain and pleasure rushed through him as her nails dug into his shoulder hard enough to leave half moon marks in his flesh. Sansa trembled with the force of the pleasure that coursed through her body, through flesh and bone and blood, and she moaned against the shell of his ear, reminding Jon that she truly was a she-wolf of Winterfell. Rolling her hips upward just once more Jon was filled so completely with pleasure that for a moment he could not see, his senses filled only by her sweet voice, by the feel of her skin, by the way she wriggled beneath him and dragged her lips across the slopes of his cheeks.

It had been days since he had slept, having spent the previous nights tucked beside her in the bed, his eyes going between her calm, sleeping form and the door. She had told him that she feared he would come for her again but Jon had promised he would not allow that, sleeping each night with Longclaw resting beside them in the bed, the iron blade shining ominously in the silver moonlight of the open window.

He wanted to whisper that he loved her, to reach down and draw the furs around their bodies, and kiss each of her fingers one by one. But he was so wrought with weariness that even as he opened his mouth no words would come, his half lidded eyes blinking back fatigue. “Sleep.” Sansa whispered, dragging the pad of her thumb across Jon’s lips. Faintly he smiled. He could do nothing but listen; knowing full well that he could sleep in peace tonight with his woman to watch over him.


End file.
